Tag Archives: loss

Song from a shell

In the icy depths of sleep, in dreams, you held me when I was no one, just myself, a shell You held me at the edges where I could have been anyone, but wasn’t— and in sleep, in dreams, is … Continue reading

Posted in identity, poetry | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Walking down the unlit hallway of life

Outside in the mid-afternoon there was just the sound of birds and kids and cars going by. It was too hot for anything, everyone hanging onto the edges by the shade. I’d gotten up when the church bells struck six … Continue reading

Posted in death, Memoir, travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

The god of only children

For some reason when I’m in Portland I feel like I can be more myself, maybe because no one knows me here. I wake and walk down César Chávez to the Starbucks in the cool, marine air. And remember the … Continue reading

Posted in death, prose, travel, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 18 Comments

The black Opal kombi connection | Field notes from the Pacific coast

This is a series of posts I started in late May and plan to continue for 40 days, with a goal of hitting 50,000 words by July 5 (#33 post). It’s inspired by a three-day solo trek on the Washington … Continue reading

Posted in identity, parenting, travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

The Tower card, reversed | Field notes from the Pacific coast

This is a series of posts I started in late May and plan to continue for 40 days, with a goal of hitting 50,000 words by July 5 (#30 post). It’s inspired by a three-day solo trek on the Washington … Continue reading

Posted in death, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Suicide in the Alps (father figure theme) | Field notes from the Pacific coast

This is a series of posts I started in late May and plan to continue for 40 days, with a goal of hitting 50,000 words by July 5 (at 30K!). It’s inspired by a three-day solo trek on the Washington … Continue reading

Posted in identity, Memoir, travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

That exquisite pose, prose

It wasn’t supposed to snow or smell like dog puke still in the corner of the sofa but it did both (it smelled and snowed), and I tightened my scarf and went out after dark but it was starting to … Continue reading

Posted in death, prose | Tagged , , , , , , | 8 Comments